


Old Enemies

by thecatsred



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Excessive Come, Hand Jobs, Large Cock, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Scenting, Soulmates, Tongue Fucking, Vampire Hanzo Shimada, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecatsred/pseuds/thecatsred
Summary: While on a hunt for a vampire, an enticing smell brings McCree closer to his mark than he ever expected. Meanwhile, Hanzo is forced to reevaluate an age-old enemy of his kind when a curious man appears at his doorstep.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 4
Kudos: 243





	Old Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of the Resonance McHanzine! I was more than happy to be a part of this project - everyone involved is incredibly talented and it was a joy to work alongside so many other awesome creators! 
> 
> The posted fic here contains both the original fic and the digital bonus extra edited together to form a cohesive fic. Please enjoy!

The sun had set barely an hour ago, though for Hanzo, his day had just begun. He’s spent most of the early evening at his writing desk, replying to letters and sending requests for supplies to the usual merchants. Most of them knew by now not to bother him, or ask too many questions. He much preferred the solitude that came with those arrangements. 

His brother had always been the one who handled all correspondence in person, but ever since he left, Hanzo’s found it increasingly difficult to deal with others personally. 

After sealing all his letters with wax and sorting them away, Hanzo heads up to the den and drapes himself across a plush chaise. He pulls a book from the end table and carefully balances it in his lap. A lit candelabra beside him flickers and dances in the storm winds coming from the open windows, but he doesn’t concern himself with it. It’s not like he needs the light to read anyway. 

What does bother him, however, is a scent on the air. It had drifted in from outside and curled around him, beckoning him to come find its source. It’s wholly unfamiliar; something achingly sweet that instantly diverts his attention and distracts him from his other plans for the day. He’s unsure how to really place what it is, but he’s more than ready to find out.

He claps his book closed and slides gracefully onto his feet. His thick hair slips off his shoulder back behind him where it belongs, tied neat and proper with a ribbon. 

Across the stone floors of the Shimada Castle, the heels of his boots sound a loud, imposing _click_ with each step, rivaling that of the thunder with how it reverberates off the walls. 

The scent isn’t getting any closer the further Hanzo moves through the halls, but he knows the source is somewhere nearby by the strength of it. Likely in the garden path leading up to his gates. This is, of course, the route all weary travelers end up taking late in the night. He wouldn’t have designed it any other way.

One more deafening boom and the clouds open up in a heavy torrent of cold autumn rain. The scent gets swept away with it, and Hanzo growls at the sudden loss. Unwilling to get his clothing wet, he stands in the middle of his massive foyer, head up and eyes closed. Then he waits. 

Whoever it was skulking out there in his yard would have to seek shelter soon enough. And Hanzo is nothing if not patient. 

\--

“Well _shit_ ,” McCree curses, voice deep with frustration. He presses his back against a tree, trying to stay out of the rain while he watches the castle from down the hill. This storm wasn’t on the agenda and it looks as though it isn’t going to stop any time soon. _This makes everything much more difficult..._

Rain drips off the brim of his wide hat, and the dull orange glow of his mechanical arm is all he’s able to see by. The moon is higher in the sky now, but hidden behind dark, angry clouds. On his hip rests his gun, and strapped to his back, his crossbow. He’s ready for anything that might come at him, rain or no rain.

McCree creeps further up the path, staying off the main road but still following along in the brush and trees. He plans to act as a simple traveler and ask to stay inside to seek shelter for the evening. No matter what sort of creature took residence in this castle, McCree is sure he’d at least be granted an audience. That’s all the time he needs to finish the job.

Steeling himself, he walks up the porch and takes note of the light shining from various rooms, wondering briefly how many might be home. The solid metal knocker on the door was cast in the face of a dragon; it’s enough to give McCree some pause. He holds it in his fingers and runs his thumb over the raised surface curiously. He’s never seen such a motif attached to a vampire clan before.

He turns his hand over on the knocker and slams it against the door twice before it swings inwards with a heavy creak, and McCree comes face-to-face with the very man he’d been sent here to kill: _Hanzo Shimada_.

Hanzo wears an elegant looking suit. Black and a deep, royal blue for the vest and lining. His leather boots are polished and as immaculate as his inky black hair, pulled back with only a few loose bangs in front and slightly obscuring one eye. He smiles gently at McCree, and McCree has to catch himself.

All of his thoughts fall away, his mouth goes dry. This wasn’t any trick of the mind, was it? What was he here for again…?

He blinks rapidly and the fog that passed over him clears somewhat. What cologne was this man wearing? It had to be _strong_ to distract him this much. He frowns, but quickly gathers himself and does his best to appear more like some poor soul lost in the woods. 

He opens his mouth to fabricate his story, though he doesn’t get a chance. 

Hanzo’s at his side in an instant, peeling away his outer coat and shaking the rain off on the stone below, hanging it up on a hook to the side. Hanzo doesn’t even flinch when he sees the revealed crossbow underneath, but there is a moment of pause and understanding that passes between the two. 

“Lost?” He asks while undoing the leather strap that keeps the crossbow attached. “I will put your things up for you to dry, don’t worry.” He works quickly, too fast for McCree to stop him before his coat, crossbow, and side belt with his gun are all hanging up and dripping silently. “Don’t worry, I often get visitors on nights like these. You can stay here.” He gives McCree a look that’s not easy to parse. “Follow me, please.” Hanzo seems eager to bring him further inside the castle.

A little frazzled and still partially distracted, McCree can do nothing more but follow Hanzo’s lead. He does leave his hat with his other items, and keeps note of where his weapons are. It doesn’t escape his notice how Hanzo stripped him of everything that made him a threat instantly. Well. _Almost_ everything. 

And oddly enough, McCree didn’t really find it in himself to mind. The unease he expected was strangely absent. Hanzo felt almost... _comforting_. McCree shakes his head from the silly thoughts and takes a look around at the decorations while they walk.

He’s brought to a cozy room with a low ceiling and a wide, beautifully carved table. A small fireplace flickers and pops on the other end of the room, providing some warmth and a soft light that casts a warm glow across both of their faces. Hanzo gestures for him to take a seat.

“Would you like anything to drink? Perhaps a hot meal? You’re my guest here, after all.” A flash crosses over Hanzo’s eyes, a light that isn’t there at next glance. It changes his expression in a way McCree would normally find unsettling, but something about this man is different. A good different, and he notices he’s staring again. He clears his throat awkwardly, at a loss for words. 

McCree scrubs a hand down his beard. “I suppose a simple meal would be fine. Bread, cheese, an’ maybe some dried meat, if you have any.” He says. And to his surprise, within a few minutes Hanzo produces all of it on a well polished copper tray. _Had he been expecting company?_ “Ah, this’ll do fine. Thank ya kindly, Mr…?” McCree pulls a glove off his right hand and extends it.

Hanzo tilts his head to the side. 

McCree gives him an easy smile. “The name’s Jesse McCree. I’d like to thank you properly for your hospitality, if you don’t mind? We didn’t get a chance to get acquainted.” 

Hanzo steps closer and accepts McCree’s extended hand, his grip firm and sure, skin a little cold, but warming in McCree’s hand. “That’s quite alright.” He says, his eyes crinkling gently at the corners. “We’ll have plenty of time this evening to do so.” He lowers his head. “Hanzo Shimada.”

Without letting go of Hanzo’s hand, McCree keeps up his disarming smile. “I don’t want to impose, but I could go for a good wine right now. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would ya?” 

Hanzo falters and slips his hand away. “I’m sorry, no. I never drink… wine _._ ” He excuses himself with a polite bow. 

A glass of water appears beside McCree shortly. “I hope water will do for now. I don’t know if I have any liquor here.” McCree thanks him and finishes his meal cautiously, trying to keep his wits about him while Hanzo sits at the opposite end and _watches_. He knows what the man is, but none of his internal alarms are raised. He splits a piece of bread in half, holding the other side out. “Aren’t you hungry?” McCree asks.

Hanzo smiles. “I’ll eat later, don’t worry yourself. You’re my guest, and I always attend to my guests.” 

The two sit in silence for a while longer, before Hanzo asks, “What brought you all the way out here so late into the night?”

McCree shrugs, knowing Hanzo already had the answer to his question. He decides to be truthful. “Hunting.”

Hanzo places his head in one hand, thoughtful. “By yourself?”

“That’s not unusual for me. I prefer to work on my own.” McCree says, taking a sip of his water. 

Hanzo’s eyes are dark when he says, “I understand how you feel.”

\--

After a quick clean up, Hanzo leads McCree further into the castle. McCree commits the path to memory along the way. Hanzo shows McCree a comfortable room, with a large bed in the middle surrounded by a dark, soft carpet. He walks inside to light a candle near the bed with his own and holds out his arm. “Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” McCree nods and doesn’t take his eyes off the other man until the door closes and all sounds in the hall drift away. He takes a deep breath, trying to commit the other man’s scent to memory. It makes him feel warm and sated. He sighs wistfully. 

McCree moves to a tall window on the far side of the room, pulling the heavy curtains aside to let in what little moonlight that’s about to break through the storm clouds. The rain still comes down in sheets, splattering against the patio outside. McCree closes his eyes, focuses on the sounds around him, on the cool feeling of the moonlight against his skin, and tries his best to focus on the task at hand. Even alone, he remains distracted. He can’t do his work while he's like this. 

Grumbling, McCree checks the room for anything suspicious, just to get his mind off things. He couldn’t explain away these feelings. For a second he wonders if there’s something in the room that smells so sweet, something to mask Hanzo’s vampiric smell. McCree frowns, searching about and trying to find what the source could be, if something kept in here was meant to distract him. He turns up nothing, much to his chagrin. _This sweetness really belongs to the man after all._

He sits heavily on the edge of the bed, leaning over to remove the hidden blade inside his boot. This he places on the table within reach, just in case. 

Some time passes before he’s confident the master of this castle won’t bother him again, and only then does he strip off his damp outer layer, leaving himself in only his undergarments and little else. He slips fully into bed then with a small leatherbound journal in his hands, and he writes in a few things of note he’s observed from Shimada Castle, and of the man inside.

_‘There are things at work here in Shimada Castle that I cannot easily explain away.’_ His script is clear. _‘The vampire who dwells within these walls is nothing like the others of his ilk. He is courteous and attentive, non-threatening in a way that should usually arouse suspicion. However, he does not feel like a threat, not to me.’_ McCree furrows his brow, pressing the back end of his pencil to his lip in thought. “Strange…” He mutters, shaking his head in confusion.

He puts away his things and settles in for the night, intent on staying up longer, but weariness weighs on him suddenly, and within a half hour, he’s asleep.

\---

Hanzo cannot stand it any longer. At this rate, he’ll pace a rut into his rug with his indecision. He straightens his back and ties his robe, intent on marching downstairs to the guest wing to confront McCree. He knew the dangers, of course. Hanzo was no fool, but he was curious, and he knew the curiosity would eat him alive if he didn’t confirm for himself _now_.

He knocks on McCree’s door. A curse sounds from the room followed by hasty shuffling, then McCree calls out, “Yes?” 

Hanzo holds aloft the same candle from earlier, leading his way into the room. The small flame illuminates everything in a gentle halo. McCree doesn’t try to hide the weapon in his hand or mask his defensive stance, but he does stare once Hanzo closes the door behind himself. 

Hanzo smiles at him, ignoring the blade entirely. It poses no real threat, and it’s not like he could blame the man. “I don’t mean to interrupt your sleep, nor be presumptuous, but you seemed... lonely at dinner.” He says, keeping his voice low and languid in an effort to calm McCree. He sets the candle down on top of a dresser and lowers his gaze in McCree’s direction. Still with that smile on his lips, he asks, “Would you care for some company tonight?”

McCree narrows his eyes, looking for any signs of danger Hanzo might possess, and to his obvious annoyance, finding none. With no protests forthcoming, Hanzo approaches the bed with a boldness he’s not felt in years. McCree tilts his head up and Hanzo can hear his heart thrumming in his chest. If his reaction is fear or anticipation, Hanzo can’t be certain.

McCree wets his lips, doesn’t look away. "You're aware of who I am." He says. It’s not a question.

Hanzo answers anyway. "I am." 

"Then you know my purpose for coming here." 

"I do." 

McCree pauses, shifting in the bed and making to stand up. "So why continue this charade?"

Hanzo places one hand on McCree’s thigh. He can feel an almost inhuman warmth radiating from his skin… The touch stops all of McCree’s movements at once. 

Spurred on by the tantalizing scent radiating from McCree, Hanzo uses this opportunity to straddle the other man, trapping him between his legs. "This is no such thing." He leans in, just enough for McCree to see him clearly. "I am here for selfish reasons. Curiosity, you could say. I’m looking for something." 

Hanzo trails a finger down McCree’s chest. McCree follows the actions with his eyes, then slides them back up to meet Hanzo’s. “What are you searching for?"

When he smiles, he allows McCree to see just how sharp his canines are. No need to hide himself from this man. He moves in even closer. “You.”

McCree’s grip tightens on his blade. “What?”

“Your scent. It’s driving me crazy, and I need to know why.”

\--

McCree swallows, eyes darting to the door, to the patio, back to Hanzo. 

Hanzo remains perfectly still, perched atop his thighs for a second, and the next second he lunges at McCree with a speed that barely offers McCree a chance at retaliation. He tries anyway, lifting his blade to defend himself, but it's swiped from his hands and clatters onto the floor, bouncing across the carpet and landing too far from his reach. 

McCree's heart pounds in his chest, and the light from his left arm swells in time with his pulse. 

Hanzo has his nose pressed against the side of McCree's neck, breathing in deeply in a manner that's far too intimate, dragging his lips over McCree's pulse point. McCree’s hand settles against the small of Hanzo’s back, and a heat thrums throughout his body. He makes a soft, whining noise in his throat, and that's when Hanzo _bites_.

It hurts for only a bit, long enough to yank the breath from McCree's lungs, but not enough to leave an ache. Hanzo bears down on him, pressing himself flat against McCree like he has no control over himself. Maybe he doesn’t. The _want_ within McCree urges him along with Hanzo’s actions, and he allows - no, _encourages_ \- whatever Hanzo has in store. 

McCree threads his glowing hand into Hanzo’s thick hair, bringing him in, closer still. Something odd passes over McCree then, a sweeping feeling of possessiveness settles deep in his core.

Hanzo drinks further, letting out a soft, pleased moan that shatters the last part keeping McCree's mind in check. Hanzo licks the side of McCree’s neck and sits up to look at his work, but his expression morphs in an instant. The man’s eyes were _glowing_. A bright amber reflects off the moonlight in the room, shining in a way no human eyes ever could. The pleased smirk on McCree’s face exposes his own pointed canines. Hanzo pushes off McCree with great haste, scrambling against the sheets in surprise, and maybe fear, even though his eyes were pitch black from lust, the high blush on his cheeks telling enough.

A deep, heavy growl starts low in McCree's belly and rips from his maw as his body suddenly tears and contorts into something else entirely. His face elongates as thick fur ripples out across his skin, his form twisting and popping as he grows another foot in length and girth. His mechanical arm also changes with him, turning more fierce and sharp with each orange glow, pointed ears sprout from the top of his head, and finally, a large tail curls out from behind him.

Now McCree, eyes sharper than they were before, turns his golden gaze back to Hanzo. He feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but his usual aggression is not present. In some ways, he’s able to think clearly, but in other ways…

He swivels his ears towards Hanzo, pressed far against the foot of the bed. 

Hanzo looks stricken, his face pale as he clutches at his partially open robe. “How... how could I not sense you?” He furrows his brow. “Why didn’t I know?”

McCree opens his mouth, showing his rows of teeth. And though his mouth doesn’t move in time with his words, his voice comes out just as clear, if not a bit deeper. “You bit me.” He accuses.

Hanzo winces. He takes a minute to gather himself, covering up for modesty as if he wasn’t just sat astride McCree moments ago. He won’t look at McCree as he speaks next. “I apologize. It was a lapse in judgement.” He says. “It... was hard to resist.” He makes a face. “But that’s what I don’t understand.” 

McCree chooses not to say anything, keeps his eyes on Hanzo as he stands from the bed. 

Hanzo has to crane his neck back to look him in the eyes, so he doesn’t. He stares at McCree’s midsection, then away with a red face once he realizes McCree’s pants didn’t survive the transformation. “I... you’re a werewolf.”

“So you’ve seen,” He says, reaching out one clawed, gnarled hand to drag the blankets from Hanzo’s clutches. Hanzo lets them go with only a touch of hesitation. He flicks his eyes back to McCree’s face, finally realizing his mistake in coming down here. 

Hanzo backs up on the bed as he talks, turning just enough to sneak a look at the patio from the corner of his eye. “You tricked me.”

McCree shakes his head, his lips pulling back in some semblance of a smile as he laughs. “Me? You knew my purpose the moment I showed up at your doorstep.”

Hanzo slides fully from the bed now, taking a few steps backwards. McCree sees this, and starts to round the bed, following. He flexes his fingers, trying to push back his body’s scream of _do something_. He refuses to give into instincts this time. Not with Hanzo. Not like this.

He sniffs the air, and that scent flows all around him, soothing and rich with a hint of spice. It’s coming from the man currently attempting to escape outside. In his daze, Hanzo manages to open the glass door to the patio, letting in the wind. The candle on the dresser blows out, bathing the room in darkness and moonlight all at once. 

Rain drenches Hanzo almost immediately once he steps outside, causing his dark blue robe to stick to him like a second skin. The shimmering fabric shows off his musculature and sets alight a fire in McCree’s belly. 

McCree stands in the doorway, some of his fur going damp, but he pays it no mind. The coolness of the air helps clear his mind. He watches Hanzo almost drape himself over the railing, searching for a safe way out. “You sense it too, don’t ya?”

Hanzo turns slightly, his eyes betraying his true self with their reddish glow. He seems confused, then as understanding moves across his features, his expression settles on intrigue. “Your scent... it’s like nothing I’ve ever encountered before.” He says. McCree nods. “Do I-?” He trails off, but in asking the question, he seems to have gotten his answer. He moves away from the railing and takes several tentative steps towards the doorway. Towards McCree.

Hanzo averts his eyes once he’s close enough. “What does this mean? Are you not going to kill me?”

McCree growls softly. “I had second thoughts the moment I got here.” He confesses. “Most of your kind are hostile. They attack on sight, and they don’t care much for pleasantries.” He steps back into the room, trying to lead Hanzo in out of the rain. Hanzo closes the distance without thought. McCree continues. “And uh,” His ears turn down. “I gotta admit, you’re pretty easy on the eyes.” 

Hanzo blinks once, twice. His hands drop from his robe to his sides, and the fabric loosens just enough to bare his chest, revealing the first hints of an intricate tattoo. McCree’s instantly focused on it.

“You don’t act like a wolf.”

“And you don’t act like any vamp I’ve ever come across.” McCree says, tilting his head. He reaches out and runs a knuckle over Hanzo’s shoulder, up his neck. “So what does that make us?”

“Oddities, perhaps.” Hanzo shivers at the warm touch against his rapidly cooling skin. “I’m sorry for biting you.”

“You’ve already apologized.” Hanzo steps closer, and McCree smooths his hand down Hanzo’s shoulders to his back, pulling him in. One of Hanzo’s hands presses against McCree’s soft stomach for balance. 

Hanzo stands barely at shoulder height with McCree now. McCree glances down while Hanzo places his other hand against his chest. He digs his fingers into McCree’s fur a little roughly, then pushes him back onto the bed with force.

Even though McCree could resist it, he falls willingly, a smirk on his muzzle, showing off his teeth. 

\--

Hanzo doesn’t expect McCree to go with his plans so easily. And if the man’s expression is anything to go by…

With a pause, Hanzo considers the werewolf below him. As sprawled out across the bed as he is, he’s still nearly eye level with Hanzo, and he’s giving him a promising look. Even as a wolf, the man is not hard to read. Though his attitude and acceptance of these things surprises Hanzo. 

Crawling up over McCree’s thighs once more, Hanzo resumes his earlier position as if nothing happened at all. “Yes,” He says finally, his fingers lifting McCree’s natural arm and turning it over, inspecting the thinner hair with his thumbs, almost petting. “I have.” He pulls McCree’s arm nearer, leaning down to press a light kiss against the soft fur. “But this apology was preemptive.” He opens his mouth and sinks his fangs back into McCree’s flesh before McCree has time to act, drawing blood and lapping at it almost desperately. 

McCree tries to move his arm away, but Hanzo has a strong hold on it, so McCree only succeeds at bringing Hanzo along for the ride. He collides against McCree’s chest, the knock forcing him to separate from the wrist lest he injure McCree more with his teeth. 

An orange glow comes into Hanzo’s field of vision then, casting a haze over the scene. McCree looks more annoyed than angry. “Ain’t got any manners, do you?” He says with a smile, wrapping his mechanical arm around Hanzo’s waist and dragging him to the side. Hanzo lands ungracefully in a heap towards the front of the bed, pillows at all sides. 

McCree sits up over Hanzo, framing Hanzo’s head with his arms, keeping him there. A single drop of blood rests on Hanzo’s bottom lip, and he sees McCree turn his focus on it. “What are we doing?” Hanzo asks, voice hesitant, but optimistic despite himself. Despite knowing better. What _could_ come of this, really? The man above him came here to end his life.

_But he chose not to._ Hanzo tells himself. He could have, at any time. Hanzo speaks up again. “Why didn’t you kill me?” He needs to know.

McCree’s tail slows to a halt behind him. “We can both sense it.” He says. “That draw. I know you can. Wouldn’t’ve let me in otherwise, right?” Hanzo makes a noise in the back of his throat and McCree continues. “You can feel it, whatever this is. I can smell it on you. You smell like home.”

Hanzo’s eyes go watery in an instant. _Home_. 

He suddenly aches for it, that feeling of belonging. Of being wanted, _needed_. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Underneath everything else, the scent of clean rain still pokes through, and strangely enough, that grounds him to the present. 

When he opens his eyes again, McCree’s ears are pointed directly at him, his tail wagging nervously and his eyes trained on Hanzo’s face. Hanzo smiles, a real, genuine smile, and lifts a hand to one of those soft ears, scratching his fingers through the fur. McCree moves his head towards him in thanks. 

“McCree,” Hanzo begins, testing the man’s name on his lips for the first time. “I would like to start over, if you don’t mind.”

McCree lifts himself up to get a better look. “I’d love to, Hanzo.” He uses his good hand to push back Hanzo’s wet hair from his face, and in the process accidentally smears some of his blood on Hanzo’s cheek. 

Hanzo takes in a deep breath to steady himself. “Maybe... let’s save reintroductions for the morning.”

McCree looks at him for only a second before he understands, breaking out into a wide grin as he lowers himself back over Hanzo’s form. _At least this is the guest wing._ Hanzo thinks to himself as McCree begins tossing pillows off the bed in his enthusiasm. 

\--

McCree’s fur is soft. It contrasts his body, solid and incredibly warm above Hanzo. His silk robe sticks to his chilled skin from the rain, but Hanzo doesn’t even notice with the all-consuming heat surrounding him. He hasn’t had any alcohol in several centuries, but right now he’s drunk – head spinning with unfocused eyes. It feels... _good_ to be out of control in a way. It feels like he’s floating, with the sweet smell permeating the entire room burning through him like incense. 

Hanzo inhales deeply, eyes fluttering closed as McCree tracks his large, wet tongue up the side of Hanzo’s neck, making his body shiver and toes clench. McCree noses just under his ear, and Hanzo can feel the warm puffs of his breath as McCree speaks. “Let me help,” he says, deeper than what Hanzo had been accustomed to. Deeper and promising. 

McCree pushes himself up just enough that all of Hanzo’s silk robe is in view, parts of it drying here and there, but much of it still clinging uncomfortably. Hanzo watches McCree’s large paw-hands, one furred and one metal, slowly loosen the tie on his robe and peel back the delicate fabric. 

One of Hanzo’s hands is lying upturned on a pillow near his face and he turns it to cover his mouth and hide the gasp that comes from him when his dick is finally freed to the cool air. He’s been hard for what seems like ages, both turned on and frightened of the change before him, but too distracted by everything pulling him towards the wolf to care. His dick arcs beautifully over his stomach, the head half hidden from view, but a deep pink where it’s exposed at the tip. McCree seems exceptionally pleased at the view, pulling his lips back in a feral grin, tail thumping like mad behind him. “Gorgeous,” He breathes, seemingly in awe.

Hanzo had never pulled a reaction like that out of anyone before. At least not in his memory. He flushes deeper and keeps his hand covering his lips. 

McCree hums something, a gentle little tune that should sound familiar but isn’t. A finger comes into Hanzo’s view then, tapping at his knuckles. “I want to hear you,” he says, golden eyes glowing in the dark room. “I want to hear everythin’ I can pull from you.” He pulls Hanzo’s robe off his shoulders. “I want to hear you _scream._ ”

The groan that follows those statements isn’t a noise Hanzo is particularly proud of, as it borders too closely to a whine. But _damn_ if that rumbling voice didn’t drive him to the edge already, putting him at a loss for air that only heightens that dizzy, weightless sensation. He pulls his hand from his mouth and lets his arms slip out of his robe. He barely notices McCree tossing it off the bed, joining the pillows that made their way to the floor only moments ago. 

“You speak too much.” Hanzo says, a curl to the corner of his lips. “I should have guessed you’d be all talk.” There’s no vitriol in his words. But the challenge in his tone makes McCree’s hackles rise, both ears swiveling forward and eyes narrow slits. 

McCree sits up fully, almost completely away from Hanzo’s body now, and for a second Hanzo regrets his words, worried they were taken the wrong way, that he’d accidentally upset the hunter. But those fears are cast out entirely when McCree gets a good grip under Hanzo’s knees and hoists his legs up and over his shoulders. 

The sudden shift has Hanzo reeling, grasping out at the first thing near him, which happens to be one of McCree’s thighs and a stray blanket left on the bed. He digs his fingers into the fur there, clinging tightly and forced to lift his hips up to keep himself steady with only his upper back as a point of contact. McCree is so much larger than he first realized. 

Keeping one hand on Hanzo’s thigh, McCree takes the other and grabs a palm full of Hanzo’s ass, holding him up and bringing him closer at the same time. Right in front of McCree’s muzzle is Hanzo’s dick, which has begun leaking precome at a steady pace, smearing it against Hanzo’s belly and rolling down off the jut of his hip bone. McCree leans in heavily, nose pressing against the side of Hanzo’s dick, making it ooze out a fat drop of pre. McCree opens his maw, tongue curling out with intent as it traces the line of the precome up the side of Hanzo’s dick before swallowing the entire thing in one go. Hanzo cries out in shock at the sudden heat, such a massive difference from the ambience of the room, and he can’t help himself from thrusting upwards. 

McCree allows the erratic movement. Hanzo has very little leverage in this way, and with the length of his mouth now, there’s no threat of choking. McCree has Hanzo cradled in the curve of his tongue, wrapping the muscle around him in such a way that Hanzo feels like he’s drowning, gasping for air and pulling just a little too harshly at McCree’s fur. “A-ah! McCree, wait, wait, _please!_ ” He says with urgency, his hips shying away from McCree’s punishing mouth. 

McCree pulls off his dick shortly, eyes searching over Hanzo’s face for any signs of pain, or distress. “Did I hurt you?” The hand on Hanzo’s thigh begins to pet his skin, soothing. 

Hanzo shakes his head once he’s gotten his breath under control. “No. I...I don’t want things to be over so quickly.” He admits, unable to look at McCree. “You are unlike anyone else.”

McCree smiles, all teeth. “You’re right about that.” He says, tilting his head to the side. “But don’t hold yourself back any, okay? I’ve got you. Let yourself go, let me help.”

A warm feeling flutters in Hanzo’s stomach and migrates to his chest. After a moment’s hesitation, Hanzo nods. “Alright.”

McCree rumbles again, words incoherent but meaning clear. _He’s pleased._

Hanzo feels that impossibly long tongue on him soon enough, and waits to be enveloped back into that wet heat once again. But McCree keeps licking long stripes across Hanzo’s balls, up the length of his dick and swirling his tongue around the tip. It’s infuriating. It’s wonderful. Hanzo bucks up into that teasing pleasure - somehow far too much and not enough at all. _What was he doing?_ Hanzo looks up at McCree and catches him watching. He makes sure Hanzo maintains eye contact as he lowers his mouth, tongue tracing lower, and lower, dragging over a sensitive strip of skin, and then dipping inwards, between his cheeks. 

Hanzo twists in McCree’s grasp, half wanting to pull away and half wanting to push into it. “T-that’s... _ooh._ ” Hanzo says, words slurred as McCree pulls his cheeks apart and runs his tongue over Hanzo’s hole slowly, deliberately, watching him the whole time. “ _Fuck_ _yes,_ ” Hanzo moans out, tossing his head this way and that, clawing at McCree. 

He swears he can feel McCree smile against his hole, and he can certainly hear the amusement in his laugh. McCree holds Hanzo up even closer to his face and tilts his head to get the best angle. “Don’t hold back.” McCree says, right before he stiffens his long tongue and breaches passed the tight ring of muscle into Hanzo. 

It’s a new sensation completely. For all his years, Hanzo has never felt anything like this before. All he’s able to do is moan and push himself on McCree’s mouth, begging for more, wordless. He can feel the pressure building in his abdomen before he even really registers it properly, with his pre flowing out steadily onto his stomach. McCree readjusts him slightly, tilts his head sideways and flicks his tongue upwards, dragging it over a sensitive spot. It’s just enough. 

Every muscle of Hanzo’s body pulls taut as his orgasm is surprised out of him. McCree tongue-fucks him through it all, prolonging the pleasure and making Hanzo absolutely boneless in the process. Once all the shivers subside, and Hanzo’s dick has given all that it has to give, McCree lowers Hanzo onto his lap. 

Like jelly, Hanzo’s legs flop back down on the bed, thighs protesting from still being hooked around McCree’s midsection, but at least he was no longer in the air. He lies motionless on the bed, chest rising and falling harshly until he’s able to calm himself down. 

All the while, McCree looks on, leaning down once or twice to lick up the mess Hanzo left behind on himself. Hanzo reaches up and runs his fingers over McCree’s muzzle, petting the man’s ears and the fuzzy sides of his face, feeling the short whiskers there tickle his palms. 

He softens at the affection clear on McCree’s face, even if his face was inhuman currently. They look at each other for a long, comfortable moment before a thought occurs in Hanzo’s mind. 

“What about you?” Hanzo asks, curious but also feeling the need to reciprocate. To thank McCree in some way, to show that he felt the same, that they were, in this way, equals. 

McCree doesn’t answer right away, instead he pulls back enough so that Hanzo can sit up in his lap. “I’m...not sure how it’d work.” He says, puzzled but also sounding nervous.

Hanzo looks down where McCree’s gaze is, expecting to see his cock there among the fur, but all he sees is a thicker patch of fur. He makes a noise in the back of his throat and reaches forwards, unable to stop himself, though McCree makes no move to stop him either. 

His fingers come in contact with heavy balls first, overheated much like the rest of McCree’s body. He’s covered in hair everywhere. Hanzo drags his fingers upwards through it all, and pauses when he feels a raised section. McCree grunts, one of his feet kicking out, his tail starting up a slow swish behind himself. _I must be on the right track._ Hanzo guesses, spurred on by McCree’s reaction despite everything. 

Under his fingers, Hanzo can feel a fast pulse that matches McCree’s heartbeat. He presses in, and from the fur appears a fleshy, slightly pointed and pinkish-purple head of McCree’s cock. The tail thumps faster now, and when Hanzo reaches for his cock, McCree presses against Hanzo’s palm eagerly, like he was holding himself back all this time. Perhaps he was.

His hand trails over the odd shape of it for only a second before more of it begins to emerge. The head is fully out now, with the shaft - that same purplish color - quickly revealing itself, to Hanzo’s amazement. _It’s big._ Hanzo soon realizes. _Much too big._ And now Hanzo understands McCree’s delima. 

With his cock fully out of the shealth, it’s nearly the size of Hanzo’s forearm, and almost as thick at the base. Hanzo’s head swims, and he can feel his mouth water, even if it’s not practical. “May I?” Hanzo asks, looking up at McCree with awe clearly written across his face. McCree nods, pressing his hips up again and accidentally sliding his cock over Hanzo’s spent dick. Too much too fast.

Hanzo slides one of his hands over the strange head of McCree’s cock, gathering a rather large amount of slippery pre in his palm, before he grasps the shaft as much as he’s able, his fingers forced apart the lower he slides down. Frustrated, Hanzo adds his other hand into the mix, slicking that up and putting his fists one over the other. 

McCree growls, his lips peeling back and baring fangs, though not in a sign of aggression. _He’s holding himself back._ Hanzo realizes, his pace slowing down some. _He doesn’t want to push me._ Hanzo scoots closer on McCree’s lap, his own dick doing its best to fatten up once again as he rubs himself against the base of McCree’s cock while working his hands over the superheated flesh. 

“And to think,” Hanzo starts, pumping McCree with vigor, hands twisting on the upstroke, and his fingers pinching the head of McCree’s cock at the tip before going back down. “You came all this way to kill me, only a few hours ago.” He snorts. “I’d say you accomplished your goal.” He smirks at McCree. The other man has his ears back, with his tail swishing in a strange rhythm on the bed. He’s making small, aborted thrusts up into Hanzo’s hands, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out the side. “I plan to return the favor.”

“ _Yes…_ ” McCree says, his voice ringing in Hanzo’s head. “Need to make you mine. Need to _mark you._ ” McCree lowers his head, thumping his forehead on Hanzo’s shoulder and nuzzling against his neck. 

Without slowing his pace, Hanzo turns and presses a light kiss on McCree’s cheek. McCree’s hands come up to hold onto Hanzo’s hips, keeping him steady over his furry thighs, and allowing him to move a little more vigorously, which he soon does. 

Both of Hanzo’s hands are covered in a thicker than normal slick now, but it eases his way so he doesn’t mind it. His dick has been hard for a few minutes, and he thrusts into McCree’s cock every so often to take the edge off with the added friction. McCree keeps alternating between calming himself and licking up Hanzo’s chest and neck.

When a low whine starts deep in McCree’s belly, Hanzo tightens his grip ever so slightly, twisting his wrists in a steady motion that matches in time with his thrusts. He could feel his second orgasm drawing near, spurred on by McCree’s growls and whines that sound like the noises of a desperate beast. It turns him on in some primal way and drives him forward, clouding his brain. 

He thinks on it for only a moment before he’s bending forward, angling McCree’s cock towards his mouth, and wrapping his lips around the very tip, hot and twitching in time with McCree’s heartbeat. The heady smell of McCree is all he knows, and he has to focus to keep his teeth from hurting anything with how wide his mouth is forced open over McCree’s cock. McCree grunts, low and vibrating, his hips unnaturally still while his claws dig little divots into Hanzo’s skin. 

“Hanzo,” McCree’s saying, though Hanzo has a hard time hearing it over the pounding in his ears. “Lower, your hands, lower please.” He thrusts forwards once to break Hanzo out of his trance. Hanzo does what he’s asked, both hands around the widest part of McCree’s cock at the base. His fingers barely touch. “Hold tight right there, an’ don’t stop til I say, okay?” He grits out, teeth bared again. “Gonna come,” He warns, once Hanzo’s hands are in place, squeezing. “Gonna mark you…” He breathes, voice hitching as Hanzo sucks strongly on the tip. “Mmn, mine. You’re _mine._ ” 

Hanzo only has a moment to wait, then suddenly McCree’s pressing roughly up into his mouth and almost howling out as he comes. It floods Hanzo’s mouth, choking him before he pulls off and sits up. He keeps his hold on the base steady, feeling with wonder the heavy spasms under his fingers that keep pumping more and more come from McCree’s cock. It shoots up to Hanzo’s chest in thick ropes, and pools where they sit together. 

As McCree shows no sign of slowing down any time soon, and the fact that the man continues to grunt and thrust upwards against Hanzo’s overworked dick, he decides to push himself forward against that pressure, eager to join McCree in that state of bliss. 

It doesn’t take long, all the come eases the way and when Hanzo tips over that peak again, he calls out McCree’s name. His fingers go lax, and McCree lets out one final moan, a line of come lazily spurting out and sliding down the side of his cock. Hanzo collapses backwards onto the bed. 

McCree shifts, pulling his legs onto the floor and using the last blanket for cleanup, but Hanzo can’t bring himself to care. The room already smells heavy of sex, spice and water - what’s one more thing? McCree’s ears perk up when Hanzo looks at him.

“How long will you stay in that form?” Hanzo asks, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. 

McCree’s tail swishes as he answers. “Guess it depends. I usually revert back when I sleep.”

Nodding, Hanzo slides off the bed and lands near McCree. He reaches up to pet McCree’s muzzle across his nose. “I must admit, even though all instincts tell me otherwise, I find both of your appearances quite pleasing.” Hanzo smiles. “Although I intend to have you in your human form at least a few times.”

McCree’s eyes go wide, still glowing softly. “I’m fine with that.” He says, wagging happily. “More than fine.” He begins to follow Hanzo out of the room and into the hall. After they’re a few paces from the room, McCree huffs. “You’re mine now,” He starts, pressing himself against Hanzo’s back and wrapping his arms around his chest. “And I am yours.” 

Hanzo pauses, letting the moonlight from the windows bathe them both in a silver glow, a gentle breeze blowing in the scent of rain and renewal. “Yes,” He agrees, placing a hand over McCree’s paw. “I am.”

\--

The storm outside continues to rage on for hours into the night, and the two occupants of Shimada Castle do not retire until the first light of dawn, finding a home in each other.


End file.
